Nameless Faces
by Khayla
Summary: NED KELLY--The night before his final battle, Joe thinks back to the reason why he's fighting, and about how things came to happen the way they did. He remembers the one girl who ever meant something, and all the other that came along the way. Rated for s


_**A/N Ok, well this is, obviously, my very first Ned Kelly fic, and I gotta say I'm pretty proud of it! This idea just kind of popped up while I was actually watching the movie, which doesn't usually happen, but I thought I'd give it a shot anyway, and here is the result of my weird spur-of-the-moment idea and a week's worth of thought and writing during class. Hope you enjoy it, please comment!**_

_**Disclaimer I, sadly, do not own anything in, or related to, the movie Ned Kelly....very sadly....I wish I owned something...but I don't...so don't bother...**_

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Joe and the girl tumbled onto the bed in a mess of creaking mattress, tumbling sheets, and shifting bodies. Hands traveled and explored each other, skimming their partner's bodies. Joe's hand treked up the girl's back and started undoing her bodice as the other tangled itself in her wild red hair, its softness barely felt, no more than a mere distraction.

Clothes flew off and landed onto the ground as the almost mechanic hands explored and conquered. Their lips stayed locked, tongues wandered, and moans became increasingly louder.

It was over quickly, and the girl fell asleep, spent, cradled against Joe's strong shoulder. He lay on his back, wide awake, eyes digging through the darkness of the night as if in search of answers.

The girl felt warm against him, and he could hear the laughter and cheers coming from downstairs where his friends and a few welcoming villagers were drinking and dancing, but Joe Byrne was most positively alone. Alone with his thoughts, his memories, and the cold emptiness that filled his soul, his heart. Left alone to remember as yet another nameless girl lay in his bed.

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They ran up the hallway, her nearly pulling him along in the narrow passageway. He could hear the echoes of her muffled laughs sounding back to him. She suddenly turned, pushing them both through a door into a small, dingy bedroom. She quickly whirled around to face him and he leaned into her, stealing a kiss as he led them towards the end of the room where the bed lay.

Gently, he lowered her onto the small bed, careful to hold back her weight as he tenderly eased her down. Her kisses traveled down his neck and gradually further down his chest as she timely undid the buttons and clasps of his shirt.

The desire was mounting in both of them as she played around his navel, and she smiled mockingly as his body clearly began showing his intentions and desires. He growled teasingly and rolled on top of her, muffling her squeals with his mouth as his hands expertly began loosening her bodice, enjoying the feel of her curves and warmth beneath his calloused fingers.

Their kissing became more intense and soon they could not longer deny their craving. They joined, united as one, embracing each other's warmth and comfort, exploring with hands and mouth every bit of the other they could reach. He reached to stroke her cheek as she moaned in pleasure, and pushed back soft curls of chestnut brown hair.

When it was over and the ecstasy of the moment had mostly washed away, they both relaxed into each other's arms, perfectly fitting into each other like two pieces of a puzzle. He lovingly wrapped his arms around her smooth back, feeling the heat emanating from her skin. Gently, he kissed the top of her heard as she snuggled closer to his chest, burying her face in the hollow beneath his breastbone.

Her brown waves fell across her face, stroking his skin like thousands of tiny pinpricks. He tightened his hold on her and sighed in content, and they both feel asleep, smiling, within each other's warm embrace.

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That was how it had been with Eva. Not just another nameless encounter, powered by the sheer need of a distraction. Every touch, every kiss had been felt, enjoyed, and desired.

Now everything was cold and automatic, done simply as an old habit and a need for something to be tied down by. Something to keep himself sane, to remember he was still alive and things warm and real still existed. It was just an attempt to either bring back or erase the past, to remember or forget all the memories. Eva had been a part of him and she had been ripped away, like nothing more than a piece of clothing like those that now lay on the hard wood floor.

Joe looked down at the girl in his arms. Just another meaningless victim in his torn-apart life, a nameless face forgotten as quickly as it had come. Just another way to try to forget Eva.

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Eva had been beautiful. A kind of under noted beauty that shined through everything she did. That beauty was what had unconsciously attracted Joe to her in the first place, back when they were just young children and the words danger and love were nothing more than that: mere words.

But her charm has also attracted much less desirable men, including James Taylor, a tall, quite handsome, yet desperate trooper that had soon developed an obsession with her after being stationed in their town. Eva, however, how not interest in the young blonde man. He was perverted, loathsome man who saw women as nothing more than bare breasts and a reason to get drunk.

Being the straightforward woman she was, Eva had said this very thing straight to his face. He never showed any sigh of having heard her, acting as if nothing had ever happened, and continued pursing her.

One night, he had stumbled upon her with Joe, finding them rather busy, using their mouths for more than talking, in the alley behind a tavern. In a drunken fury, Foster had pulled out his pistol.

Eva lay in Joe's lap, rain drops gently exploding as they landed on her face, plastering her hair to her neck and cheeks. Blood poured from her stomach, staining her gown and Joe's breeches as he cradled her weakening body against his chest. The lifeless lump that had been James Foster lay not to far from them, the hilt of his own dagger protruding from his throat.

As blood continued to be pumped out of her body, Eva smiled weakly, and her shaking hand reached up to stroke Joe's cheek. Her normally brilliant green eyes became hazy, as if a veil had been pulled in front of them.

"Aye," she whispered, sounding almost resigned. "You take care, now." Her voice was so weak and quiet that Joe had to strain his ears to hear her above the pitter-pattering of the rain.

Joe took her hand from his cheek and squeezed it lightly as a final breath passed by Eva's lips.

"No," he whispered, his voice cracking. And Joe Byrne sobbed into the night as the blood of his beloved merge with rain water and tears, washed away in a meaningless instant.

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Joe ignored the wetness that slid down his cheeks as he remembered Eva's final moments. He could have saved her, he thought for the millionth time. He could have been quicker. But it was too late, now. He had not been able to save her, and instead he now lay in bed next to another girl, anticipating what could possibly be his last stand against the ones that had killed her.

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Joe sat on the floor of the tavern, leaning heavily against the wall, oblivious to the sound of gunshots and pained screams. He rammed his head against the wood behind him in an attempt to the dull the constant ringing in his ears left by whizzing bullets and quiet the thoughts that ran through his mind, screaming to him to get up and do something.

I need a drink, he thought. Ignoring the current circumstances of his environment, thinking in an almost drunken fashion caused by shock, exhaustion, and grief, he stood up, wobbling under the weight of his makeshift armor and stumbled to the battered bar.

Bullets whizzed past his head as Joe reached for the only decanter than had not yet been shattered to pieces and poured himself. He held out the glass, looking through the golden liquid at the scene before him. He looked upon dying, terrified men and woman lying on the cold, blood-slicked floor of what had been, only hours ago, a cheerful little pub.

How things change, Joe thought ironically. Moments could pass from being full of warmth, joy, and hope to being swelled with grief, loss, and pain. He nearly laughed when a bullet hit his glass, causing it to explode into a handful of glass shards, scattering themselves on the floor with a small tinkering sound.

He no longer felt like a part of this anymore, just an observer, standing apart and watching as other men curled onto themselves, fear overpowering their initial goal. He only watched their pathetically desperate attempt at fighting against or for something they didn't even fully understand themselves. What was it they had been fighting for this whole time?

Through his musings, Joe became slightly aware of a sharp pain down by his navel. He looked down and felt his heart clench at the sight, reminding him of another rainy day much like this one. He put his hand to his stomach and almost laughed when he saw it was covered in blood. For second, he felt like he needed to say something, to let his friends know he was hit. But suddenly, a wave of absolute peacefulness hit him as life flowed slowly out of him.

He barely realized it as his knees buckled and he fell to the ground, sliding against the battered counter. He could feel the blood pouring down his side as his heart continued its endless beating, thrusting more blood out of his body with every heartbeat. He gradually felt his senses growing weaker and closed his eyes as all strength left him. It was all going to be over soon. Soon he would be at peace....he would see Eva again.

And in the darkness of the night, unknown by the world around him, the final veil of darkness was brought down before Joe Byrne's eyes, ending his final thoughts of nameless faces and eternal love.

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_**A/N If you are reading this, you better review, good or bad! It's only fair!! puppy eyes pleeeeease?**_


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